I Will Find You
by memenunumeme
Summary: It's been six turns of the moon since Starling Lavellan and The Inquisition defeated Corypheus. What now? Starling goes searching for the one who left her, and is roped into locating someone she left behind. Featuring many characters from DAI, as well as some from DAII. (Post-Game AU NO DLCs)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Some time ago, on Bioware's Solas Sympathy thread, Kryllian requested a post-game story based on the Clannad song: _I will find you._ I said I would. It's been nearly a year in the making, but I finally got my stuff together! I had several plans and rewrites and scraps and everything in between. Then, they announced that the final DLC for the game has been released, and apparently Solas and Lavellan get some kind of ending. Well, I wanted to get Starling's ending out before I played it. So, here we go.

If you haven't yet, check out my other story Look to the Sky for Solavellan fluff and relationship development. This story takes place post-game (No DLCs) in some kind of AU. Starling is my Lavellan. The rest is the emotionally addictive creations of Bioware.

EDIT 11-27-2015 – I have been having a hard time with the pacing of this story and some of the dialogue. I am still working, it's just taking a little bit of time. I am going back to edit these first chapters before posting anything further. Thanks for reading!

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Summary:

It's been six turns of the moon since Starling Lavellan and The Inquisition defeated Corypheus. What now? Starling searches for the one who left her, and is roped into locating someone she left behind.

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 _No matter where you go, I will find you._

 _In the place with no frontiers._

 _No matter where you go, I will find you._

 _If it takes a thousand years._

 _~Clannad_

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The clouds reigned so black they were nearly blue, and thick darkness enveloped her body once more. The people and memories of the past lived on in The Fade, muddled and disorganized, echoing chaotically in the very spot she'd defeated her enemy. The mark on her wrist itched and came alive, reacting to the latent energy. The mark might attract nearby spirits, she knew. It was her intent. _Help me,_ she thought, in an attempt to bend them to her will. A flash of green light; a change in the wind, and Corypheus was gone. The Fade reflected old feelings. The sweetness of relief. The bitterness of loss. Her mind, free in the fade, sent out its call.

 _What did you want? ... Why were you here? ..._ "Why did you leave?" Starling choked out the last sentence aloud, the tears returning to her indigo green eyes, and the harsh pain of holding back stabbed in her throat. The image was the same answer she'd received for many months. The lean silhouette walked away as her back was turned, and disappeared into the ether. Once more, she reached into the tome of The Fade, deftly turning the pages with practiced fingers.

"Where are you?" she demanded. Her body tensed, attempting to force the familiar feeling of traveling to an others' dream-space in her stomach. With every fiber of her being, she begged to feel the pull of an answer. She felt nothing. Every page, blank. In frustration, she flipped through the tome with fury. The Fade groaned in response, and a burning pain shot through her wrist; a threat to tear the the veil itself. Ice flooded her veins, and she felt sweat coating pallid skin; cold and clammy.

 _Solas, smells of cedar and earth and rifts_. _Where are you?_ She conjured an image of him in her minds eye. A soft whispered memory lingered in response. _No matter what happens_ , the scent was sharp and familiar in her nose and she inhaled, relishing it. _Your voice is soft like summer rain. Where_ _are you?_ The memory continued; A solitary echo. _I want you to know..._ The familiarity of the voice caught her attention. It was vivid, as if he stood in front of her once more. She continued on, focusing the spell. _Your hands rough, but gentle, tingling on my skin... Where are you?!_ He appeared before her, a shimmering illusion. He looked the same as he had when he left; his lilac eyes dimmed with sadness. He gave her a smile that didn't reach them, and reached out his calloused hand to touch her bare cheek and stroke her hair. _That what we had, was real._ Starling felt her nose twitch in anger. _You broke my heart!_ He turned away, shoulders slumped. _You broke my heart..._

Starling could feel the tears flowing from her eyes, though she willed them to stop. More images floated before her; a rotting stinking demon; a young girl, dead and lifeless on the floor; an angry gash in the sky; a pooled mirror, gold and shimmering; a castle-yard, filled with innocents entombed in glowing blood. The images flew faster, accompanied by deafening silence. She cried out in frustration, slamming the book closed. The world spun around her, the sickly green fusing with ebon clouds. The taste of dirt filled her mouth as the blackness lifted to flashes of crimson sunlight through closed lids. Her wrist burned, and the keys inside twitched and screamed at her to let them out. She stilled herself and opened her eyes. The sun was high. It danced in the piercing blue, defying the ugly scar that marred its home.

"Starling?" a raspy and tentative voice spoke, and she felt a large balmy hand cover her own. She blinked a few more times to flush the water from her eyes and focused, turning her head toward the familiar sound. _Blackwall_ , she thought, the warmth returning to her chest. Then, she remembered. _No, not Blackwall. Thom. His name is Thom_. The chill returned. The immense man crouched next to her, sweating in the heat, clad in chainmail and boiled leather. His azure eyes flashed with concern. Starling felt herself nod in response. She moved to speak but her mouth was dry, offering a croaking sound instead. His other hand produced a water skin, and she sat up on her elbows, accepting it gladly.

"Thank you," she said, her voice escaping as a dry whisper. She felt her stomach rumble. "How long was I out?" She eyed the man, and then her gaze fell beyond, bringing their surroundings into focus. A few new tents had been erected at the campsite some ways away from where she lay, but mostly everything looked the same. Decaying broken ruins surrounded them in contrast to the cheeriness of daylight.

"About ten hours," he responded, releasing her hand and running a few fingers through his thick black beard. She noticed dark rings around his eyes. He must have stayed watch over her the entire time. "Is it always like that?" he asked. Starling nodded.

"Give or take," she replied as the pain in her throat began to subside. She accepted the bread, cheese, and dried fruit he offered next, and swallowed more of the water. He stared at her, the worry making a home on his forehead, which he wiped with the back of his hand. Ferelden was in the throes of summer, and the sun had beaten the land relentlessly. Sweat covered everyone in a thick sheen, and all sighed in anguished relief at even the hint of a breeze. On the few other occasions she'd come to the Valley of Sacred Ashes to lie among the ruins, her dear friend Dorian had traveled with her. But Dorian was gone, and the uneasy warrior insisted to be her escort in his stead. "Thom" she said, the name still foreign to her lips. "You needn't be armed. We are safe here. You'll sweat to death." Her tone was friendly but guarded, and the chill of the fade lingered in her rib cage despite the heat.

"I know, Li- Starling," he fumbled over the words. Starling nearly winced. Their relationship had not been the same since... She removed the thought from her mind.

"I should order you to disarm," she said in jest, trying to give a genuine smile. He gave a close lipped one in response.

"An I could tell you where to shove your orders, Inquisitor," he chuckled, briefly gesturing to the griffon symbol that was emblazoned on his chest. She'd given the command; for her friend; her brother, to be sworn into the Gray Wardens. He had abandoned her; betrayed her and The Inquisition. In her outrage, she promised he would make amends as she saw fit. If he would pose as one, so should he become. And so it was done. One of her many regrets. After the fall of Corypheus, he left for a time to join The Wardens, and she forgave him in his absence, missing his reassuring presence and clear eyed stare. Months later, after her brief tour of Orlais and Ferelden in celebration of the defeat of Corypheus, the man formerly known as Blackwall returned. He brought word that the Wardens assigned him and a small detachment of Grey Wardens as an Inquisition liaison. Internally, Starling's heart leaped with happiness, but the distrust lingered in the back of her mind, like the roots of a gnarled weed choking a flower. He was not the same. Thom Rainier arrived with a new name, a new purpose, and his countenance even grimmer. Their relationship was not as it was. _Creators take my anger, and damn my stubbornness_ , she thought.

"I wish you would forgive me," she said instead, her gaze moving from the griffon to his tired eyes. He offered a half smile that didn't reach them.

"I carry the blame for both of us, little bird," he said, squeezing her shoulder. She felt better for a brief moment. He hadn't called her that in quite some time. She missed the endearment.

"Then forgive yourself!" she said, boldly, her voice waking from its slumber. He had no response, other than to offer a hand to help her stand.

"Everything is packed and ready to go, just as you asked," he said, though he sounded oddly far away. Stars flashed before her in a dizzying haze as she climbed to her feet. She instinctively reached out her free hand hand to grab his arm, and he sidled to her before she could stumble. The human looked at her with those troubled blue eyes, but said nothing. He didn't need to.

"I stood up too fast, that's all," she said, placating him as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. He grunted and let her go once he was satisfied she could stand. She reached her arms above her head and stretched out, admiring the "view."

The Valley of Sacred Ashes was still a bleak ruin, though small sprouts of weeds and green grass threatened to bring life to the place. There was a small camp down the road, which she suspected would become a town again in the near future. _A New Haven, perhaps,_ she thought idly. People from all over Thedas traveled here to make their pilgrimage; to see the place where The Herald of Andraste flew high and vanquished the Evil Corypheus, bringing tenuous peace to the land. Now, it was nothing but an open field of ruins, crowned by the scar in the sky. Starling wondered if the view disappointed the pilgrims. The Inquisition still maintained a presence, and not far from her chosen location, a section of land had been cordoned off.

"How large did Gatsi say the statue would be?" Rainier asked, noticing her gaze. She sighed and shook her head.

"Creators... I have no idea." She rubbed her forehead and groaned. "I'll bet you twenty sovereigns they make my tits bigger than they are," she said, unable to hide a laugh. Even the grumpy warden had to chuckle.

"Oh no... I can't make a bet like that on a warrior's salary," he said, grinning as he rolled up the mat she used to travel into The Fade and strapped it to her pack. "I'm still trying to win back my favorite pants from Varric," he added as he stood up and handed the bundle to her gingerly. He treated her with more care than ever before; as if she were one of his fragile wooden dolls he carved for children. She was simultaneously grateful and annoyed. _I am not a child_ , she thought. _I will not wither and die from a broken heart._ She shoved her arms in the straps and hoisted it on her back. He turned away, and took a breath to speak.

"The horses are ready when you are," he said, gesturing in the direction of the crude stables. She rubbed her eyes and nodded, taking a few steps toward him.

"Thank you, Thom," she said as she placed a hand on his forearm. "For coming with me... For everything." He looked down to the ground. "Do you need to rest?" she added, noting his slumped shoulders. He shook his head briefly.

"I'm a real Warden now," he said after a moment. She opened her mouth to interrupt him, but he held up his hand to stop her. "But that doesn't change a damn thing. You set me on this path... to make things right. I owe you my life, Starling. Anything you need, I will always be here. An' if something's important to you, well... then it's important to me too," he said, and his gravely voice gave a slight hitch.

Starling could feel her lower lip tremble slightly as the tears welled in her eyes again. She sniffed and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. The feeling of his large muscular arms around her proved to be a familiar comfort, and an immense feeling of relief washed over her as she felt the change between them. They would be friends. The Herald found herself crying again; alternating between thank yous and apologies in between sobs. The fight for Thedas was over, and Starling should be relieved. Instead, she found herself mourning her personal losses.

It was a sad day when her dear Dorian returned to Tevinter. The Iron Bull, Krem, and the rest of the Chargers were gone too, chasing the dream of coin, ale, and adventure. A part of Starling wished she could join them. She had grown quite close to Dalish, the elven "archer." Vivienne lead mages and templars in Orlais in who desired a new Circle. Sera kept a room at the tavern in Skyhold but was often gone as well, her tireless quest to fluster the nobles of Thedas still incomplete. Cassandra Pentaghast, honorable and just, was deemed to be the new Divine. Her policies, fair, but not as progressive as Starling might like, meant for a crucial alliance between The Inquisition and the Chantry. The new Divine sent letters regularly, but was unable to visit. Starling's vallaslin and clan identity, gone with a gesture. And, of course, the mysterious disappearance of the man responsible for breaking her heart compiled the pain.

"There, there, my girl," he said, in a voice softer than she'd ever heard. "I was a fool to leave, but I had a reason… Solas is also a fool, but I'm sure he's got a reason, too." She sniffled again and nodded, pulling away so they were face to face. He raised a hand and wiped her tears away with his rough thumbs.

"I am ready," she said, and they walked together to the stables.

The ride back to Skyhold was relatively uneventful. Starling chose a small but sturdy brown palfrey for the journey. Thom rode a large grey stallion, whose behavior was nearly as stoic as his passenger. As they rode, they noticed many travelers, and Starling could scarcely believe the number of caravans heading in the same direction.

"More pilgrims, coming to sing your praises," Rainier remarked to her as they trotted by a Ferelden caravan, complete with mounted Knights, a rolling wheelhouse, and at least one hundred on foot. The wheelhouse and the knights were decorated with flags bearing the sigil of a bull's head, and Starling wished she'd paid better attention to Josephine when it came to Ferelden heraldry. Though Starling was clad in a simple linen robe that bore no mark, she kept her head covered, lest she be recognized by every man, woman, and child along the way. Starling shot him a look.

"It wasn't _my_ idea," she said quickly, her voice low. Thom offered a toothy grin in response. Starling couldn't recall exactly what triggered their arrival. After the defeat of Corypheus, people from all over Thedas began to present themselves at Skyhold. Some just wanted to see her in the flesh, or receive her blessing. Others wanted her to settle their disputes and grudges, and still more came to take in the marvel that was Skyhold. At first, Starling enjoyed the attention. It kept her mind off of the loss of so many friends and comrades. Then, she and her advisers began to worry. _What would Ferelden and Orlais make of a strong entity so close to their borders? What is our purpose_? The questions made Starling uneasy. So far, her interactions with the rulers and ambassadors of Orlais and Ferelden were diplomatic, but Josephine claimed it wouldn't last. Starling begrudgingly obliged these visitors, holding "court" in her throne room, while Sera, if she was visiting, teased the reluctant Inquisitor from the back.

Thom gave her a look that asked, "Do you want to stop?" Starling shook her head from beneath her cowl. They continued on, inconspicuously joining the travelers heading to Skyhold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Edit 11-28-2015 I went back through this chapter and cleaned it up. I'll be rewriting chapter 3 soon.**

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 _I would cross oceans of time to find you._

 _~Dracula (sort of)_

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The morning light announced itself by breaking through the curtains of The Inquisitor's room, pulling her from the Fade, and annoying her with its blatant cheeriness. She groaned and rolled over, shielding her eyes with long dark hair. She should be happy. _Hero of Thedas. Inquisitor. Peacebringer, Slayer of Corypheus, Savior of the World._ She groaned again _. Bearer of Decrees, and Bringer of More Paperwork, more like,_ she thought as she snuggled herself deeper under the covers. After the end of the Mage-Templar conflict; once the rubble left in Corypheus's wake had cleared, Starling found herself in a holding pattern reminiscent of early retirement. The Inquisitor was slowly discovering that her job consisted mostly of sitting, schmoozing, and signatures when there weren't battles to fight or people to inspire. She didn't exactly hate it. When she fought the war, she'd wished nothing more than for it to be over. Now, she found herself nostalgic. She missed the pull of the Fade when casting a powerful spell; the anxious thrill of battle; even the endless marching in rain. She missed camp the most; and the songs and stories sang and told by firelight. She'd traveled more than she ever thought she would, even as a the Keeper's First. She worried she would grow soft.

In her new life at Skyhold, she tried to keep herself occupied, and for the first time since the murder of the divine at the enclave, Starling found herself trying to remember what she did before. She was born a talented mage to her clan, and was thrust into the Keeper's hands without really considering any alternative. Becoming the Keeper was her destiny, and the only thing she'd ever known. _Who was I?_ It was then she realized, _I was duty. I was everything that was expected of me._ Now, for the first time, Starling should be truly free. _Vir revas, the Way of Freedom._ Her face flushed at the memory of her first journey to Skyhold. It seemed so long ago; when Solas had learned the truth of her name. He held her face in his hands and whispered those words. His eyes, mysteriously intense; his fingers, tingling with magic. He thought it suited her. She felt a tremor in her core at the memory of his touch and the feeling of his breath on her skin. Her body reacted; breasts swelling and skin prickling in familiar anticipation. She groaned again and shook the memory away, dismissing the notion.

The first few months were a whirlwind, as The Herald and The Inquisition traveled the continent in a parade of drinking and song, proclaiming that the world had been saved. After meeting again with the king of Ferelden, the empress of Orlais, and many common-folk and lords in between, she and what remained of The Inquisition returned to Skyhold to oversee rebuilding and maintain the peace by day. By night, plagued with unanswered questions, Starling honed her dream walking. She read everything she could about latent energies, Somniari, and connections through the Fade. She sent letters to universities and tasked Leliana to locate any knowledgeable mage for correspondence. Measuring the positions of the moon and stars, she regularly and dutifully traveled to the Valley of Sacred Ashes, the place where it all ended, in hopes to find some answers. Her trip with Thom had been her third. She wondered if it would be her last.

After rolling around in rebellion under the covers, Starling gingerly stepped out of bed. Her bare feet pressed into the thick rug and she wiggled her nubby toes before standing and giving her body a much needed stretch. She rinsed her mouth and dressed quickly in a loose blouse and soft woolen breeches, leaving her long hair wild. She headed down to the yard, flanked by two of Cullen's guards, Sir Percy and Sir Glenneth. Sir Percy was a broad shouldered boy, green but alert, and Sir Glenneth, a rough man no older than forty, with black stubble to match his black eyes. The latter's gruff demeanor reminded her slightly of Thom Rainier, which provided some comfort. After the defeat of Corypheus, and the exodus of several of their fiercest and most loyal companions, Cullen's vigil over her was more tenacious than ever. The guard had at least doubled, and there was no more slipping away from them. Though she still tried.

Starling didn't prefer to train so early, but the sitting and schmoozing parts of her duties were required today. The day would begin with a Chantry service, to which Josephine insisted she attend, and then she would meet with a few minor lords, ladies, and diplomats from several countries. Next, came the Inquisitor's Audience, where she would hear from pilgrims all over Thedas. A few came to wish her well. A majority, however, traveled to share grievances, beg for her to solve their disputes, or requested the aid of The Inquisition. Sitting on a throne, arbitrating between farmers who stole each other's pigs was not her idea of a grand time, though she supposed it could be worse.

When she approached the yard, she felt a slight lump in her throat as she saw a large woman in training-mail familiarly hacking away at a wooden target dummy. _Could it be?_ Starling's face lit up with a wide grin, and her legs quickened, unable to carry her fast enough. Suddenly, the woman looked up and stared at the Herald through unfamiliar slate-colored eyes. _Oh._ Starling tried to hide her disappointment and gave a brief nod in greeting. Starling missed her friend.

As a majority of her companions left The Inquisition, the few who stayed provided a welcome respite. Cole still wandered Skyhold freely, helping in his way and keeping Varric company. Varric was ... different ... after everything. A rift had opened briefly between them after he lost his best friend, Hawke. At first, Varric blamed Starling. However, his forgiveness came quick as he cried into a bottle for days. Starling had never seen him so despondent, and her eyes pricked with tears just thinking of the memory. _The silvery hair and grey eyes flashed as the brave human mage brandished her staff menacingly, simultaneously defying and accepting her fate."I'm sorry, Fenris."_ The sound of her voice echoed through Starling's mind. Starling frowned as she stepped into the yard, readying her own stave. Varric never spoke of it. Starling felt guilty, for though The Inquisition had written Hawke's family, Starling had not thought to inquire after any of them. She heard Hawke had a brother in the Templars in Kirkwall. She made a mental note to ask Cullen his whereabouts.

She trained hard, and before long, several bystanders had gathered to watch. Wide eyed children clung to their parents skirts as Starling swung her staff against the wooden target dummy mercilessly. A group of travelers, dressed in hoods and finery of Tevinter, eyed her impassively, and a crowd of a Ferelden lord's bannermen slowed as they walked by, sizing her up.

"Please give The Herald some privacy," she heard the green boy guard, Sir Percy, say to the growing crowd. Starling stopped. She'd had enough of them gawking anyway.

"It's fine, Sir Percy, thank you," she called out to him between breaths. She smiled at the milling crowds, taking a moment to run a kerchief on her damp forehead. Sir Percy nodded and stepped back again, allowing her to venture to the fence to talk to her visitors. One of the children was a young girl, whose dark hair reminded her of a child she couldn't save; a child from nightmares that seemed so long ago. She stopped to speak with them for a few minutes and exchanged simple pleasantries. Soon enough, several Inquisition guards stepped forward to escort her back to the castle. She felt a twinge of sadness as she was lead away. _I should be with them. I should be out there, helping; not crammed up in this damned castle._ Skyhold was slowly devolving into yet another prison.

She found herself back in her quarters, alone. Her attendant, Nissa, she presumed, had placed a formal outfit on the bed for the day. Starling sponged herself off and stood, naked in her room, staring into the mirror.

 _You could have anything you want, anyone you want, and you choose a dream_. She saw the way some men and women looked at her. People who would have never given her the time of day when she was just The Keeper's first, practically swooned at her feet. She was a hero; a celebrity; a bright light in the darkness; larger than life and not uncomely with wide expressive eyes and a youthful smattering of freckles on her bare elven face. She was a political goldmine; the current catch of all Thedas, a fact that Josie reminded her nearly every day. _And still, he left_. Starling approached the mirror of her vanity. She sat and brushed her dark hair, which had grown quite long over the past few years, though she still kept it shaved partially on one side. A small homage to her clan; to those she left behind. She watched the brush separate and tame the wild tangles, and her mind wandered to the place it often did when she was alone.

She'd tell herself that she held no romantic fantasies about him. No true plans of bonding or choosing him as her life mate. Her feelings, though strong, were practical. She hadn't known how long it would last, so she made sure to appreciate every day. And she knew in her heart that he felt the same. _And still, he left_. He abandoned her, leaving nothing but a cloak and some paintings. No warning; no explanation given. She was angry and crushed when Solas ended it with her romantically, but she always thought there would be an answer; some kind of reason; a reconciliation that they would work through. After the fall of Corypheus, she was shocked to find him gone, for they had been friends first, and she'd hoped to remain so.

It had been six months, but she could still sometimes smell him on the wind. At first, it was surprisingly easy. Her travels after the fall of Corypheus did not leave much time for naval gazing. Starling kept herself busy and employed tactics recommended by everyone she knew; drinking too much, not drinking enough, training too hard, reading books; burning certain other books; taking others to her bed for casual dalliances. The more recent diplomatic holding pattern allowed for more leisure time, and, in turn, reminded her of all she lost. On particularly lonely nights, she'd find herself ransacking her armoire for the cloak she'd secretly stored away. It was simple, soft, and grey in color. She would wrestle it free from a drawer and drape it about her small frame. She'd then collapse on the bed, stare at the ceiling, and inhale the faint scent of him; the only physical reminder.

In dreams, the soft timbre of his voice echoed in the Fade. At first, she'd tried to find him while dreaming in Skyhold, searching the pages of the Fade for his dream space. It was of no use, yet she could not rid his memory from this place. It was as if Solas was the lord of the castle, and she; merely a guest. He'd filled the walls with art, and she could not deny the empty room he left in her heart. _He belongs here, and I do not_. She set the brush down and gazed at her own reflection. Her hands absently grazed the thin freckled skin around her eye where her vallaslin used to dance. _I belonged with them. But no longer_. She was barefaced now, a flat ear. He had given her a gift in one hand and smashed her heart with the other. And to rub the salt in the wound, he abandoned them all with no warning. _Some gift_ , she thought sarcastically. After a time, her anger subsided, but gave way to despair and incredulity. Starling felt a large sigh escape her lungs. She had moped for too long. Now, it was time to wake up.

Starling buttoned up the dark red top emblazoned with the golden eye of the Chantry. Then, she sat down on the bed, and slid her legs into the breeches. After pulling them up and tying them around her waist, she gazed into the mirror again. A practiced hand lined the rims of her eyelids with black kohl and gave her hair a final fluff. _It is time to go._ _Wake up!_

The Chantry service passed quickly, despite the droning of the Revered Mother. As did her morning meeting. She dined on a late breakfast with two Ferelden lords whose names she forgot immediately after meeting them. Luckily, Josephine played an excellent hostess, and Starling hardly had to speak three full sentences. From there, her guards escorted her to the hall, where the throne waited. The doors thundered open as she entered. She ceilings of the throne room vaulted to arches, and the murmur of voices echoed throughout the cavernous space. Her indigo green eyes scanned over the large crowd that had already gathered, stopping at her adviser, Josephine. Josie's dark hair was smooth and pinned up, and she was armed with her trademark candle-board and a quill. She gave a quick bowing motion in greeting to Starling, who approached her.

"They are eager to speak with you, Lady Inquisitor," Josephine said loudly in formality. Starling nodded in response and her feet turned leaden as she shifted her gaze to the throne. "The Red Seat," as Cole called it, was tall and oaken carved; upholstered with soft crimson dupione and topped with the golden star of the Chantry. The perfect shemlen throne. Though it was hers, the initial sight of it always filled Starling with dread. _It'll get easier, Freckle. You just have to remember who you are_. The memory of Varric's advice floated through her mind. _Who am I?_ She crossed in front of Josie to take a seat.

"How many?" Starling whispered out of the side of her mouth to the other. The murmuring quieted as she approached the chair, which had been modified to support her short stature.

"We scheduled fifty-three today," Josie said, not unsympathetically. _Maker's balls_ , Starling thought. She repeated the number back to Josie, her dark-rimmed eyes widening in horror. Josephine just smiled. Starling reluctantly lowered herself onto the throne, resigned to her fate.

"May I present Sir Gwendolyn Pierce and Sir Roderick Stanton," Josephine announced, as two armored humans stepped forward and bowed. Starling settled in. It would be a long day.

The morning dragged into afternoon as she listened to families quarrel and offered Inquisition resources to aid a man's sick wife. The minutes crawled to hours as Starling smiled, listened, and attempted to make diplomatic choices. From the measure of the crowd, and the look of calm on Josie's face, Starling assumed she was doing well. There were many aspects of her Keeper training that benefited this leadership role. Despite the exhaustive process, Starling actually enjoyed this part of her job. It was the one way she could directly touch the lives of those she wanted to help. After quite some time, Josephine must have noticed their leader's fatigue. She stepped forward, and cleared her throat.

"It is now time for a br-" She began to announce, but her voice was cut off by the sounds of hubbub in the back of the throne room. Starling craned her neck to see over the line of people standing at the forefront. A man's voice, raised loudly in anger, echoed through the hall. The voice's owner, wrapped in a dark cloak, strode quickly through the crowd, pushing past those not fast enough to move out of his way. Starling looked around the hall, measuring the room. The Inquisition guards stood up straighter, their hands readying near their swords in anticipation. Josephine clutched her candle-board, and Starling sensed Cullen moving to her side, but she waved him back. The Inquisitor sat up in the throne, somewhat excited for a break in the drudgery. As the figure got closer, she noted his height. He stood half a head taller than the tallest man in the room, though his face and physique were shielded by a dark woolen cloak. She thought she heard the figure growl slightly as he approached. His pace slowed and he came to a halt about three meters from where she sat.

Starling tilted her head and remained calm, though she felt the hairs on her arms prickle as she readied her magic. Her eyes met his from beneath his cowl. After a moment that felt like an eternity, his gloved hand reached up to pull back the hood, revealing an elven face with long white hair and large, startling green eyes. Pointed ears peaked from beneath the straight locks, and his chin ended at a sharp point. His skin, sun-burnt and ruddy, and he was clad in simple but well-made clothes. She didn't know him. Despite his size, he would have looked the same as any other elf were it not for the appearance of white vallaslin that graced his chin, strafed down his neck, and disappeared beneath his tunic. It was not a pattern she recognized. He might have been handsome but for the furrow of his brow and the flaming fury in his eyes. His lips curled into a sneer as his steely gaze regarded The Inquisitor. _This man wants to kill me, s_ he realized. The room grew silent. She heard the soft footfalls of Cullen's soldiers as they each took steps forward. The man inhaled sharply.

"So, you're the one," his deep voice rasped. The elf lifted a black-booted foot to take one more stride toward her throne. He was very large for an elf, tall and lean, and his looming presence slightly intimidated her. Her instincts told her to flee, but instead, she casually crossed one leg over the other. She sensed Cullen tense behind her again.

"'The One' has such an eerie and fatalistic ring to it, wouldn't you say?" she responded, her eyes locked with his. "Most just call me Inquisitor, or Herald, or Her Inquisitorialness if you're feeling cheeky. You may call me Starling," she said, eyeing him with confident curiosity. The rashness of this man intrigued her. Attacking her here would surely be a death sentence for him. _He may want to kill me, but he wants something else more. And anyone who wants something can be dealt with, or so Leliana liked to claim._ The man stared at her, but if he was losing his nerve, it did not show.

"The one..." he continued, his voice growing louder. His pupils grew large and even more intense. "Who killed my wife!" he shouted; his voice reverberating through the hall. And then, quicker than a serpent striking a mouse, he rushed at her, his hand stretched outward as if to choke the life from her body. The strange tattoos glowed a piercing white. He moved faster than a man of his size ought to, but not fast enough. The room erupted into confusion. Before he could take two more steps, her guards were on him, and Cullen appeared at her side, sword drawn. They grabbed him by the arms and he struggled, wrestling. His tattoos pulsed as he hollered curses at her in... Tevinter? _Who is this man?_

"He tried to kill The Inquisitor!" she heard a man shout.

"Save her! Protect The Inquisitor!" She heard another respond. Most of the crowd spread away from the man and his mysterious light-show, but a few attendees with martial training stood close. Starling could see the anger on their faces at the lone elven attacker. _This could get bad._ She shifted her gaze back to the elf, who futilely struggled to reach her, even as a guard clasped manacles around his wrists. Starling then looked at Cullen, who still stood by her side, barking orders. In all the confusion, Starling did not see a small hooded figure break off from the rest, green eyes searching desperately. Starling also didn't see Varric enter the hall from a side room, take a look at the scene, and declare:

"Oh, shit."


	3. Chapter 3

**Edit 12/14/2015 I went back through this chapter and changed only a few things. Chapter 4 coming soon!**

* * *

 _And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain._

 _~Missing, Everything but the Girl_

* * *

Luckily, Cullen trained his guards very well. Within three minutes, they had surrounded the crowd, protecting the angry elf from the mob.

"Take him to the dungeons, at once!" Cullen's baritone boomed through the hall. "Clear the room!" he added, and the guards began to shuffle the excited visitors out. Starling saw Cullen whisper something to the guard in charge of escorting their new prisoner. The furious elf had quieted, and his shouts were replaced by a broody stare. He no longer struggled as the armored troupe lead him quickly out a door to the dungeons. The Inquisition guard ran like clockwork, and Starling was very impressed.

"Are you alright, Lavellan?" Cullen asked, his hand lightly grazing her arm.

"Of course," she responded. "He was hardly given a chance. Your people are well-trained. I have no worries of them going soft during peace-time," she added. The power of their military concerned her, but she was grateful for their precision on this day. Starling felt her veins course with heat, and she scarcely noticed both Josephine and Leliana appear by her side, flanked by scouts and more guards. She did, however, hone in on another sight; Varric stood facing a wall, speaking in hushed tones to someone whom Starling could not identify. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Starling's eye, giving her an almost imperceptible nod. The small figure's back was pressed against the wall. The face was covered by a cowl, though the frantic hand gestures divulged a very animated conversation. An Inquisition guard approached the two in an attempt to escort them both from the hall, but Starling had other ideas.

"Cullen, get Varric and whoever he's with," she said. "Have them meet me in the west wing solar." Cullen said something in the affirmative, and left her side to instruct his guards. Leliana spoke next.

"I am very sorry, Inquisitor," she said. "I am not sure how this could have happened. He must have slipped by my people." A thin line creased Leliana's forehead; the only sign of her distress. It dwelled briefly there, despite the bardic-trained porcelain mask she normally wore.

"This looks... very bad," Josephine chimed in a voice that spoke sterner to Leliana than Starling had ever heard. "People will talk. The rumors of an assassination attempt on The Herald of Andraste could be devastating to our cause." _What cause?_ Starling thought. She had grown weary of politics and the Inquisition's image.

"I'm sure you will find a way to spin it for us," Starling replied, slightly more curt than she intended. She locked eyes with Josephine. "You always do." Starling could feel her lips press to a thin line, though she was secretly delighted by this new series of events. Of course it would take an attempt on her life to finally excite her again. To feel something other than... _No, Starling. Wake up._ Luckily, Josephine's voice helped pull her from her reverie.

"He was speaking in Tevinter," she was saying. Her soft eyes flashed with excitement. Apparently, Starling wasn't the only one bored with the peace. She missed watching Josephine work. The Antivan woman was a force to be reckoned with in the political sphere, and Starling could almost see the wheels in her brain spinning. "We could spread a small rumor that the Tevinter Mages are still trying to pull apart The Inquisition..." Leliana nodded, while Starling put up a hand and gently placed it on Josephine's wrist. She nearly laughed.

"It is a good plan, my friend," Starling began. "But let us see what this elf actually wants. I think we might have some answers very soon." She looked over at Varric, and Leliana followed her gaze. The guards were escorting him and the cloaked figure out a side door. Josephine nodded.

"We will be able to hold off rumors for a few days, but we must have a plan very soon, Inquisitor," Josephine said, a slight edge on her voice. She hated being stifled, and waiting vexed her. Starling sympathized.

"Give me one day," Starling replied, and she squeezed Josephine's hand gently. The woman nodded in response, and left with her escorts.

"Are you ready?" Starling said to Leliana, whose practiced eyes scanned the nearly empty room. Leliana looked at Starling, and a small smirk appeared on her lips.

"You are enjoying this," the red haired woman remarked. Starling raised her eyebrows in response and smirked back.

"As are you, lethallan," Starling replied. Leliana's expression shifted to a true smile before she replaced it with her bardic mask. Leliana never played Wicked Grace with her friends, and in this moment, Starling was reminded why.

"Let us go see what our dwarven friend is hiding from us this time," the spy-master said. The two of them set off to see Varric and his mystery visitor.

* * *

There were two guards posted outside the solar. Through the thick wooden door, Starling could hear the muffled speech of a woman's voice, frantic and quick. She paused to listen.

"This wasn't the plan! This wasn't the plan at all! Oh Creators, Varric! What are we going to do? Vir'a halam! ( _He is finished!_ ) He is such an idiot! I told him time and again he needed to control himself. We came all the way here-" She heard Varric's voice cut her off.

"Now, now, Daisy, just calm down." He sounded soothing, but Starling could hear strain undercutting his tone. "We will think of something. The Inquisitor is not a bloodthirsty tyrant. She will hear what you have to s-" At that point, Leliana gave a nod. The two guards opened the door and The Inquisitor and the Spymaster stepped inside.

"Indeed, I am very curious as to why a man would try to kill me in broad daylight in the presence of a fully trained guard and a crowd full of witnesses," Starling said as she entered the room, wasting no time. She surveyed the scene.

There were two guards standing on the inside of the solar. Leliana waved them away and moved to stand by the door, her face unreadable. Starling took a breath. It had been some time since she visited this room. It was a place of memory; smelling of fresh paint, plaster, and the smell of Solas; earth and rifts. It was the last place he touched, and his frescoes still decorated the walls. Varric, who let out a soft grunt upon Starling's arrival, stood next to a table. He poured himself what Starling assumed was a second drink from some refreshments a servant supplied. _Nissa knows me so well_ , Starling thought, noting the choice of heavy wines, spirits, and a variety of cheeses with the food selection. Varric himself looked worse for wear. While the summer afternoons were hot, the breezy arid climate of Skyhold's halls brought some relief. Her dwarven friend appeared to be extremely uncomfortable. His normally worn but cared for clothing was stained with sweat, and his frizzed hair gave him a haggard look, as if he had run his hand through it too many times out of stress. His brown eyes, usually soft and relaxed, were widened, as if he had seen a ghost. Starling had only seen this look on him twice. Once, upon the abrupt return and departure of his love, _the real_ Bianca, and the other on the death of Hawke. Shaking Varric was no easy task, and these two people had accomplished it in the span of half an hour.

Starling then brought her attention to their guest. The elven woman was small, even smaller than Starling. The cowl had been pulled back, revealing short hair the color of walnut bark, with a pointed chin and pronounced cheekbones that were enhanced by the curving scrollwork of Vallaslin. The work was unfamiliar, though the style was always different between clans. If Starling had to guess, she would say Dirthamen. Keeper of Secrets. _They are slave markings._ The voice of Solas burst through her thoughts. Starling buried him away. The woman's eyes, large and green as a forest after rain, fixed themselves on Starling. Though they were wide with surprise, they were softer than her rabid elven friend's. Her skin, like most elves, was ageless, though Starling guessed she was slightly older, despite her child-like face. She had been pacing the room as Starling entered. Upon hearing the door, she turned to face the intruders; remaining perfectly still with Keeper-trained grace. Starling could smell the magic on her. The scent of leaved-trees and vanilla that was so similar to Keeper Deshanna; a scent that Starling had nearly forgotten. Both dwarf and elf paused their speech long enough for Starling to remember her manners. She spoke again.

"An'daran atish'an," she said to the elven woman, offering her a traditional greeting. Varric still said nothing and tossed back his drink. Upon hearing the Elvish, smaller woman seemed to come to her senses.

"An'daran atish'an, falon," was the woman's response. "I heard you renounced our ways. It surprises me to hear you speak the tongue of the people," she continued, bluntly, but not wholly unkindly. Starling almost smiled. She immediately liked this woman, for any stranger who spoke their mind was a refreshing change of pace.

"Then we are all very surprised today," Starling continued, "I, by attempted murder, and you, by my extreme politeness," she looked to Varric after she spoke. The woman said nothing in response, though her mouth hung partially open at the Inquisitor's sarcastic tone. "Varric, perhaps you have something to be surprised about as well?" she added. Her friend did not answer her question.

"Inquisitor Lavellan," he said, his formal tone slightly mocking as his large hands wrapped themselves around a decanter. He poured himself a third drink. The brown liquid swirled in the crystal glass. "These are not the ideal circumstances in which I wanted you two to meet, but when the hell do we get those? May I introduce you to a dear friend of mine: Merrill." The elf named Merrill bowed her head briefly in greeting. Starling could not hide her shock. _Merrill._

"You are Merrill, of the Sabrae clan," Starling said, incredulous. "The very elf from Varric's tales of Kirkwall! Your name and reputation precede you here, falon." Starling said, hoping that her tone remained appropriately neutral. Merrill. The one who had eluded Leliana's grasp. She was an elven mage, and, if Varric's stories were true, she possessed a depth of knowledge that far surpassed most experts. Leliana could not hold her tongue.

"Varric, I will assume you were protecting this mage from my inquiries as well," she said. Her face maintained its porcelain facade, but the slight edge in her voice revealed irritation. Varric's brown eyes met Leliana's blues and his upper lip curled, giving him a look of exasperation.

"Did you really think I'd give you another one of my friends after what happened to the last one?" Varric spat, his own voice holding a rare spark of anger. Starling felt a pang in her chest as her heart reminded her of the guilt of loss. Starling caught Leliana's gaze.

"Now is not the time for blame," the Inquisitor interjected, her voice firm. "What's done is done, though we can hardly hold Varric responsible for wanting to protect his friend," she added. Leliana defiantly folded her arms over her chest, but said nothing more. Merrill's look seemed to soften to the Inquisitor. "Now, will someone tell me what in the Creators' names is going on here?" Starling said, her gaze shifting from Merrill to Varric and then back again. Varric downed the remainder of his drink, and Merrill spoke.

"Well, let's see," she began. Her voice, pitched high; the cadence, strange. "It must have been... Oh, a year ago, perhaps, when Varric sent the letter. We all got one. I got one, Isabella was supposed to get one but who knows where she is nowadays, Aveline got one, Carver got one, Varric said he even tried to contact Anders... and, of course, Fenris... He was away but, he got one too." Merrill frowned, and her green eyes went lifeless for a moment. _Fenris,_ Starling realized, trying to think back to Varric's stories about his friend. _Hawke's husband; a tall, white haired Tevinter-raised elf_. Starling rubbed her forehead, immediately feeling stupid. It was no wonder he wanted to kill The Inquisitor; the one responsible for losing his wife. Merrill continued, "Well, it was a sad time in Kirkwall, to be honest. I gave her the rites best I could, so we could say … goodbye, in our way, but... But … her body..." Merrill trembled for a moment and blinked back some tears. She cleared her throat and looked up at Starling. "I didn't have it. So, when Fenris came back, he begged me. We were barely civil to each other, even when Hawke was around, but he begged me to fix it. I didn't... I didn't know what to tell him," Merrill said, her voice breaking softly. Varric stood and poured himself another drink, then he crossed the room and placed a wide hand on Merrill's dainty one.

"Just tell her, Daisy," Varric whispered. His voice was so quiet Starling had to strain to hear.

"I can bring her back," Merrill blurted, quickly and without affect. "I know I can bring her back. That is why we came here. Though Fenris, that stupid man, had to muck it up for us! Fen'Harel take him!" Merrill added the curse at the end, narrowing her dewy eyes and wrinkling a petite nose. Her kind and childlike face had morphed to fury in an instant, and Starling felt the subtle change in the pressure of the air as Merrill's power swelled. Starling looked to Leliana, who could not hide her surprise. Starling began to consider the elf's suggestion. To bring Hawke back. To save her... It was...

"This is insane!" Starling said aloud, letting her thoughts exit her mouth before tempering them. "How can you... Could it even be..." Starling immediately thought of the times she had visited the Fade in her physical form. The first was the time Corypheus had opened a Rift and forced her in. The second was the time when Flemeth... Mythal... Morrigan's mother... guided her through with... "An Eluvian," Starling whispered aloud. She locked eyes with Merrill, who stared back at her earnestly. "You have an Eluvian," she realized. Her indigo-green eyes widened in fear and surprise. "You know how it works? You can take us into The Fade?" Starling took a step toward Merrill. Her brain moved the thoughts quickly and the magic in her body sang at the idea of the power of such a spell. Merrill nodded in response.

"I know I can," she said, and her child-like voice spoke with confidence. Varric downed the fourth drink and collapsed into an overstuffed chair, placing his head in his hands.

"Then why come here?" Leliana interjected again, eyeing Merrill with distrust. Merrill opened her mouth to speak but was Starling's turn to interrupt, the thoughts flooding her mind.

"Because of the spell! She needs me... Or she needs someone who was there..." Starling began to pace the room, mulling over the possibilities. _An Eluvian! If we can go into the Fade and rescue Hawke, we could find Solas!_ Starling nearly hung her head in shame at that notion, chastising herself for thinking so selfishly. Still, the possibility remained. _An Eluvian!_ Merrill was speaking when Starling came back from her thoughts, explaining the magic to Leliana.

"Yes! This spell is like... well, think of a spell like a ship. It needs a captain, that's me! It needs the power, that's magic, of course. It needs a sail; something to catch the power; that is the Eluvian. It needs a rudder, a direction; somewhere to go! That's you, Inquisitor Lavellan, as you were steering her when she was … was lost, and.. you are a powerful mage in your own right. And, finally, it needs..."

"An Anchor," Starling filled in for her. "Fenris," she added, her voice low. _A being to tie Hawke to this world. A port in the storm. The one she loves._

"It's all quite romantic, really," Merrill cooed, looking very proud of herself. Her eyes dried as she spoke of her craft. Varric rubbed his own eyes, and Starling noticed they had reddened. The concept was simple. _Old magic._ Starling knew such a spell would be anything but.

"It is dangerous," Starling said, continuing her train of thought. She turned her back to them and took a few steps toward the final unfinished fresco. She could never understand it. A large wolf, a sword, and a doorway. She traced her fingers along the curved edge of the doorway. _Or perhaps these are the wings of a dragon,_ she thought as her fingers pressed against the cold was still unsure. She wished Solas were here, not only for his comfort, but to lend his expertise. He was the most talented and knowledgeable mage she knew. Even Morrigan would be an excellent adviser, but she was gone as well, along with her Eluvian. She heard soft footsteps behind her, and sensed the magic of Merrill's approach. The elven mage tilted her pointed chin up to look at the fresco.

"Yes," she said, her green eyes studying the soft lines that Starling grazed with thin fingers. "It will be dangerous," Merrill affirmed, and then turned to look up at the Inquisitor. Starling exchanged glances with Leliana before Leliana's eyes fell on Varric, who had stood up as well. His hand gripped the arm of the chair, as if he needed the support to stand. It only took one look into Varric's pleading eyes for Starling to know her answer. She would help, but she needed more.

"This doesn't explain why your friend attacked me today," Starling said, her mind instantly returning to the frustration at hand. Merrill and Varric both shook their heads in unison.

"I... I cannot say," Merrill said. "We came here to ask for your help, but the moment we entered the hall, he got so angry..."

"Fenris's broodiness is only outmatched by his desire to go all glowy and rip out his enemies' hearts. I suppose it's good to see this hasn't changed," Varric chimed in. "Women somehow find this attractive," he added, his voice dripping with incredulity. Starling sighed and looked at Leliana. The spy-master's face was unreadable. Starling moved her gaze back to Varric.

"Varric, you have been such a good friend to me. There is no way I could turn my back on you now. I want to help..." She heard a small squeaking sound escape Merrill's lips, as her forest colored eyes ballooned with excitement. "However, this impulsive attack by Hawke's husband must be dealt with." Starling rubbed her forehead as she spoke, a habit she had picked up when the soft freckled skin had been pocked with frostbite after the destruction of Haven. "I must speak with him directly," Starling decided aloud. She looked to Leliana, "We should go to the dungeons..." Starling said, but Merrill held up a hand to cut her off.

"Ir abelas, Inquisitor," she said, her voice soft. "Perhaps, well... Fenris was a slave, and... speaking to him through bars might not be the best way to … get him to … talk. I'm not just saying this to get him out of a cell..." The small elf began to fidget and wring her hands. "I just mean, he might listen better, from outside of a cage … He's, grumpy, broody, and his stubbornness vexes me more than anything … but … he's not a terrible person, and … he abhors bondage above all things..." As the elf spoke, the speed of her speech increased. Starling could feel the skin on her forehead wrinkle as she stared at Merrill, curious. "Not like the fun kind of bondage, of course, but the other kind … Oh! Never mind! I am just making this worse. I'll stop talking now." Starling could not hide her smirk, and even Varric had a small smile to offer the rambling mage.

"Mas serannas, Merrill," Starling said. "I will take this advice under consideration. For now, you are a guest. Varric, please show Merrill around and get her settled, but do not leave the Keep." Varric nodded, pouring himself another drink. Starling left the room with Leliana close behind. After the guards shut the door behind them, Starling turned to the woman. "I need to speak with our prisoner," Starling said in a low voice. "Can you send for him?" Starling asked, as Leliana studied her with passive blue eyes.

"Our interrogation room is ready, if you have need of it," Leliana began, but Starling shook her head, cutting her off. _Vir Revas_ , Starling thought. _The Way of Freedom_.

"I know just the place," Starling said, and the two walked silently together down the dark corridor.

* * *

A/N – In my actual play-through, softened and radical Leliana is The Divine. I chose to keep Leliana in this story because she is awesome, but I also think that no matter how radical Starling is, the Inquisition and the Chantry would not have accepted Leliana. Despite Starling's lobbying, Cassandra became Divine instead. In my play-through, I could not bear to leave Hawke behind, so I left Warden Alistair in the Fade instead. (It was a very brutal choice.) In this canon, Leliana and the Hero of Fereldan are together, while she (Viola Cousland) and Alistair rule as King and Queen. Starling left Hawke behind because Hawke is a mage; well equipped to withstand the dangers of the Fade.

Thank you so much for the follows! Reviews are VERY WELCOME!

Meiza – Thank you for your review! I haven't read any other stories where Fenris returns, but now I am excited to do so! (After I'm done with this one, of course!) Fenris was my default choice because he is my canon LI for Hawke, which is Gideon Emery's fault. So, originality aside, I chose him. I absolutely love Merrill and I think she has a lot in common with Lavellan. I also see her as one of the only mages with the talent and determination to rescue her friend. So, putting them together like The Odd Couple seemed to be the next logical step. I hope you enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

_The sun was born, and so it shall die_

 _So only shadows comfort me_

 _I know in darkness, I will find you..._

 _~VNV Nation_

* * *

"This is absolutely insane!" Cullen's smooth voice echoed down the darkened corridor. His boots trod heavily on the stone floor, and Starling scurried quickly to keep pace with his long human legs. For some unknown reason, she nearly smiled at his outburst, her mind wandering to the other times Cullen Rutherford voiced his incredulity. She held her tongue out of sympathy. Her steadfast commander was a serious man, and his kind heart did not deserve her ridicule, no matter how innocuous. She could only voice her agreement to appease him. Though, she realized, he was quite right. _This is absolutely insane._

"It is," she admitted, her voice low. "Thank you for obliging me," she added, watching the flickering torchlight dance across his face. Though it was late afternoon, the lack of windows bathed the hallways of Skyhold's upper towers in everlasting night. Their shadows trailed eerily on the stone walls behind them, mocking his severity. Cullen frowned, and a humming noise passed through his closed lips.

"We don't even know if Hawke is alive! We know nothing about this magic!" Cullen continued, as he kept his furious pace. The earnestness of his plea touched her, but did not bend her resolve. They reached the end of the corridor. Two sconces clung to the wall, guarding the heavy wooden door. Starling stopped and turned to face him. Cullen used the opportunity to voice another concern. "This man attacked you. What if you agree to help them, and he does it again?" he said.

"I know," she said, and she reached out her hand. He wore a thin red linen top tucked into brown breeches. In the heat, his sleeves had been pulled back, and Starling's delicate fingers grazed the warm skin of his forearm, which was covered in fine blonde hair. She brought her eyes to match his, and, for a moment, the torchlight lit his face, and she swore his eyes were gold. "I need to do this, Cullen," she said, her own voice pleading now.

"Why? It is too much of a risk, Starling," he said, his voice breaking. Starling understood his concern, though this depth of emotion was unusual, especially from him. It confused her, but she answered his question.

"Can you imagine losing someone and forever questioning their fate? To lose a loved one and remain in darkness of their whereabouts for the rest of time?!" she said, her voice sounding louder than she intended. "If Hawke is dead, we will have a body...a confirmation; closure. Her loved ones will not wonder in despair any longer." Cullen's eyes softened, though the lines of worry still marked the soft space between them. Starling felt her own eyes burning, but she continued. "And what if she is alive? She is in hell, and I'm the one who delivered her to the demon's clutches. It is my responsibility to make it right." Cullen took a breath to interrupt her, but she cut him off. "Varric has given his life to our cause, and asked for nothing in return! It is the least I can do for him," she added. Cullen nodded somberly then let out a sigh.

"I do not like this, Inquisitor," he replied, lowering the tone of his voice. "Let it be known in our official record that I object, though know I will support you." He stared at her through his warm golden gaze. _The eyes of a lion_.

"We will have to wait for Josephine to record the official documents, but your dissent is noted. Your support; much appreciated, as always," Starling said, her voice turning lighthearted. She saw Cullen's scarred lip curl into a small smile. Well, as much of a smile he could muster, given the circumstance. In the darkness of the hallway, Starling saw their commander in a new light. It was as if she was seeing him for the first time. When they met, she thought him reasonably handsome but sullen. His sunken eyes were always rimmed with pink, and there was a sallow tone to his skin, sometimes making him look older than his years. She often thought him feverish, but, as far as she could tell, he never complained, nor took ill. It was later, when he revealed his Lyrium addiction that she understood. Now, it seemed far behind him. Today, she saw a brightness in his countenance. Though perhaps it was the firelight, his formerly pallid skin looked radiant, and the tiny crinkles in the corners of his eyes revealed a soul free from that burden. Perhaps one of her advisers found happiness in peacetime.

"Shall we interrogate our prisoner, Inquisitor?" Cullen asked formally, placing a hand on the iron doorknob that lead out to the ramparts. Starling nodded, and Cullen opened the heavy wooden door, pulling it toward him. The orange sunlight of summer nearly blinded her as she stepped outside.

Due to the hasty attempt on Starling's life, ill planned and impulsive as it appeared, Cullen and Leliana insisted on a security lock-down. All "Strategic Areas" of Skyhold stood off limits to everyone except "authorized personnel." The keep was unusually quiet, and the heightened security would shield their interrogation from prying eyes. It was here Starling bade Leliana to escort their elven prisoner. As Starling's indigo-green eyes adjusted to the brightness of the late afternoon, she saw that Leliana had done exactly as she asked. Their quarry, an imposing silvery-haired elf, stood proudly on the battlements. His hands, free of the manacles the Inquisition had clasped around them, gripped the stone balustrade. He kept his back to the interior of the keep, and did not turn when the door opened. The guards had removed his cloak and armor, and he stood before them in a dark tunic and black pants. Leliana leaned against a stone wall nearby, and four trustworthy Inquisition guards stood ready. These guards were Cullen's, and loyal. They eyed the elf warily, but gave him ample space. Now, Starling could only hope that taking Merrill's advice proved fruitful. The Inquisitor took a few steps toward Fenris, her thin shoes making no noise on the stone floor.

"Hawke always said she would take me to Ferelden one day," the tall elf said. His unmoving green gaze graced the eastern horizon. "I never thought it would be to track her killer," he added. His voice was rough, though he spoke with the cadence of one who learned among royalty. Starling assumed he spent his childhood in the Tevinter Imperium, yet his mastery of the Common Tongue was evident even with only a few lines spoken. Starling did not stop her silent strides until she stood next to him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cullen step forward, obviously concerned for her safety within the proximity of her would-be assassin. This time, Starling was not afraid.

"And how did you find it?" Starling asked, feeling him out. He did not turn to look at her.

"It is... Wet. Though not entirely displeasing," he said after a moment. "Its people were surprisingly kind, though they have lost much to the mages and templars. They were not wary of two elven travelers, which was... unexpected." He turned his head to the side, and Starling found herself face to face with him. "Though, I suspect that is your doing." Starling gave a nod.

"Sometimes all it takes for humans to accept elves is to stop their wars and save them from the end of the world," she said, wryly. She was unsure how the humor would pass, but she had the power here, and nothing to lose. _Then again, neither does he_. A very minuscule smirk graced his lips as he traced his hands on the stone in front of them.

"And so you saved them," Fenris said after a moment, his gaze returning to the place where the mountains embraced the sky. "When I heard the news about Corypheus, I asked myself if it was worth it. Was losing the greatest woman in all of the world worth... this?" His hand released the balustrade and gestured to the scenery around him. She saw the bones in his jaw tighten as his face turned severe. "I have to say, no," he said with finality.

"Do you know how many wives whose deaths for which I am responsible? How many husbands?" Starling replied, her tone firm but free of malice. With these words, he turned his head toward her again, meeting her gaze with eyes haunted with anger, though the dark circles underneath revealed exhaustion and defeat. _Up close, he really is quite large_ , Starling thought. Now that she was able to study his face, she saw his fury had been replaced by pain and anguish. _This is a man who wears his emotions on the outside; for all to see_. It was as clear as the eye of a storm. He looked to the horizon again, his hands once more gripping the stone railing. He sighed, and his shoulders relaxed, slumping forward slightly. The elf, Fenris, once described to her as a majestic wolf; a fierce hunter of slavers; with a will of iron and a temper of fire, showed none of the tenacity from the tales.

"None of them were mine," he said grimly, his voice lowering as he moved his gaze down to his hands. Starling waited to see if he would continue, but he remained still.

"I have spoken with your friend," Starling said, tilting her head to the side as she stared at him, observing his face to see any reaction. "She tells me you came all this way for a reason, and that reason was not revenge." She saw Leliana shift her weight out of the corner of her eye. Fenris shook his head, and a puff of air escaped his pointed nose.

"A fool's errand," he spat, "Magic," he continued, and his face contorted as if the stench of Skyhold was that of a putrid bog. "It is true. My... companion, Merrill, convinced me that we could try and rescue her. I suppose you already know that. I will admit the notion roused me to action, but when I entered your halls, I-" He paused for a moment and Starling heard a bird call a greeting from the sky above. The tall elf's throat undulated as he swallowed the lump that must have formed there. "You sat there on your throne; queen of all you surveyed. The Inquisitor; the woman who stole the very heart from my chest and left her to be tortured and die in hell." He spoke through gritted teeth, and then winced, and the last embers of anger in his jade eyes went out. Starling could not help but sympathize.

"Your wife was very brave," Starling admitted, trying to keep her voice emotionless. "It is out of respect for her, and my dear friendship with Varric, that you are not hanging in a gallows somewhere." It wasn't exactly true, but it sounded like the right thing to say. Starling had never condemned someone to death, no matter their crimes. She certainly wasn't going to start with this sad sod. A rare summer breeze passed over them then, rustling her hair and bringing a cool sigh of relief. The same bird called his greeting from above. Other than that, Skyhold was eerily silent.

"I—I should not have come after you like that," he admitted slowly. "I apologize. Now that it is done, I will accept whatever judgment your Inquisition metes." Starling felt her brows knit in confusion. Is that all? He was not going to beg for her help, or so it appeared. He had indeed given up, or perhaps he was testing her to see if the stories of her kindness rang true. She could admit as much. Her ears perked as she heard the sound of a heavy boot impatiently rapping at the stone floor. _Cullen has had enough_ , she thought, and, as if reading her mind, the commander took a few steps toward them. Fenris turned his body in preparation to face the man. Leliana remained silent.

"So, you confess that you tried to take the life of The Inquisitor," he said, his voice filled with the authority of an army general.

"I did," Fenris admitted, keeping his gaze coolly locked with the commander's.

"Was anyone aware of your plan?" Cullen continued.

"I acted on my own," Fenris said slowly, his brow furrowing as he realized where these questions were headed.

"You received no aid from anyone?" Cullen pressed again.

"As I just confessed, I did not," Fenris stated firmly. Starling stayed silent. She had not given Cullen any instructions as to whether or not he could join her. She assumed he would stand within arms reach, hand moving back and forth from his sword to his belt; his scarred lip curling in anticipation of any movement. Though in hindsight, she should have known he would be unable to keep his mouth shut. If this is what he needed, she would allow it.

"You did not come here alone, elf," Cullen went on. "Did your traveling companion know of your intentions, and did she aid you in any way?" Fenris scoffed, revealing white teeth that were nearly pointed.

"Merrill! You have got to be joking!" The snowy-haired elf gave a laugh that sounded more like an angry shout, and a nearly wolfish grin spread across his face. "Mages are not to be trusted, that is true. And Merrill is a dangerous mage, though her incessant babbling is more likely to kill you than anything else." He paused, and then looked between the two of them. "You know why she came here." Fenris added. Cullen gave a quick nod, and looked to Starling. _Is he done yet?_ Starling wondered. The silence was her answer.

"Do you think she can save Hawke?" Starling asked bluntly, her voice low. Fenris scoffed again.

"I honestly do not know," he admitted. "Though there is no point in entertaining that idea now." _Poor defeated dog_ , Starling thought, pitying him.

"I have heard enough. Take him back to his cell," Starling announced, and the guards immediately complied. "I don't imagine we will be needing those manacles, will we, Fenris?" she added, giving the man one last look in his jade eyes. She saw a tiny twitch in the eyelids and his jaw tightened, but he shook his head. _A small test of trust._ The main gaoler nodded, and Fenris was lead silently off the battlements. Starling let out a huge sigh.

"Well, what do you two think?" Starling said, rubbing her forehead and allowing her shoulders to relax. She felt an odd pressure in the place between her shoulder blades. Cullen kept his mouth shut politely to let the spymaster go first.

"He is telling the truth, from what I could see," Leliana stated, and Starling saw a dim trace of sadness in her crystal blue eyes. "He is a man with nothing left in the world. Aside from anger and despair, I believe the only other emotion he feels is regret." Starling sighed again, her hand returning to her forehead.

"That he did not kill me?" she asked.

"That he still lives," Leliana admitted.

* * *

I'm sorry for the delay! Fenris is really hard for me to write, so I went back and forth on this a lot. It's a little short, but I thought that was a good chapter end. I'm pretty busy, so I can't guarantee when a new chapter will come out. Give a follow if interested!

Lilybud – Thank you so much for all your reviews on my stories. They have inspired me to keep going. I tried to send you a message directly, but your profile didn't allow it. Anyway, I hope you like this one.

Tinejensen – Thank you! The story was originally going to be three stories: Starling searching for Hawke, Starling searching for her missing sister (mentioned in my previous story, Look to the Sky), and then finally the search for Solas. I am unsure if I will include the sister part (It may involve Tevinter!) So we'll see how it works structurally! Thank you for reading and the review!


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